


Make a Gumbo, Shake an Ass

by fromcrossroadstoking



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Because he has good taste, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, just a bit of silliness really, modern day spina listens to missy elliott
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26565331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fromcrossroadstoking/pseuds/fromcrossroadstoking
Summary: Gene comes home to the apartment he shares with his best friend to find him making an absolute mess in the kitchen. But at least he seems to be having fun.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 6





	Make a Gumbo, Shake an Ass

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the HBO War characterizations, not the actual men.

As Gene approaches the door to the apartment he shares with Ralph, he can hear a familiar sounding beat thudding out into the hallway from their place. He can’t quite place it until he opens the door and steps inside.

_When I walk up in the piece  
_ _I ain’t gotta even speak_

Standing in the living room, Gene can hear the lyrics clearly now. He can also very clearly hear Ralph`s (godawful) attempt to rap along. He nearly doubles over in laughter but manages to hold it in because this is just too good and there’s no way he wants to let on that he’s here yet. Gene bites the inside of his cheek, hand firmly clamped over his mouth, as he sneaks up to the kitchen doorway.

_And stop talking bout who I’m sticking and licking jus mad it ain’t yours  
_ _I know ya’ll poor ya’ll broke  
_ _Ya’ll job jus hanging up clothes  
_ _Step to me get burnt like toast  
_ _Mothafuckas adios amigos_  
_Halves halves wholes wholes  
_ _I don’t brag I mostly boast_

What he sees when he gets reaches the doorway causes a burst of laughter to escape, blowing his cover - not only is Ralph enthusiastically rapping along to Missy Elliot but he’s dancing around, shaking his ass, a stirring spoon in each hand, in a kitchen that looks like it’s been through World War III (and lost). A look of absolute horror crosses over Ralph’s face and he freezes in place like a deer caught in headlights the second he realizes he has an audience. The expression on his best friend`s face is what finally does Gene in and he falls into a fit of laughter that shakes his whole body.

Ralph shuts off the music and waits, a tad red-faced, as Gene slowly collects himself. It takes longer than expected but Gene finally straightens back up, massive grin splayed across his face, but no longer laughing.

“You weren’t s’posed to be home yet.”

“Got out early,” Gene says slowly as his eyes take in the full extent of the destroyed kitchen, “What’re you makin’? Or tryin’ to make?”

“Well, it’s your birthday and you were complaining the other day ‘bout there not being any real Cajun food ‘round here so I thought I’d, uh, make some.”

Gene`s a bit speechless for a minute as he takes another look around the kitchen, this time his eyes picking out the familiar ingredients of home.

“Wasn’t exactly going great…” Ralph lets the sentence trail off, opting to let the mess speak for itself.

A smile twitches at Gene’s lips as his eyes flick back towards his friend. “Thank you, Ralph,” - there’s a full blown smile on his face now - “It’s a bit messy but I’m sure it’ll taste good.”

Ralph makes an amused snorting sound at the statement, “Don’t hold your breath, bud. I’m telling ya, I ain’t cut out for Cajun cooking.”

“Can’t be that bad,” Gene replies as he lifts up a lid on one of the pots. Looking at the contents simmering inside, he furrows his brow as he tries to identify the dish.

“What’s this one?”

“Gumbo. No, that’s the jambalaya. Or maybe the gravy for the rice. Shit, I don’t know.”

Ralph had not been kidding when he said he wasn’t cut out for Cajun cooking. Not even a little bit. There are about five different pots going, all with fairly unidentifiable contents - some seem to have fish, some have pork (or chicken?), some seem to have both. One of the pots seems to have enough peppers and hot sauce in it to drown an elephant - when Gene takes a whiff of it, it burns the inside of his nose and down his throat.

“Alright, well… ain’t nothin’ that can’t be fixed up,” Gene tries his best to put far more optimism in his voice than he actually feels.

They set about cleaning up the disaster zone formerly known as their kitchen and attempting to save the food that seems salvageable. It takes the whole afternoon, but neither of them notice. The time flies by as they talk and joke and Gene teaches Ralph the art of Cajun cooking with the patience of a saint. By the time anything’s ready to eat, the sun has long since set.

They sit at their small kitchen table, each with a bowl of half decent gumbo, eating in companionable silence as a cool breeze blows in from the open window. The breeze is a bit of a blessing in the overly hot kitchen, which doesn’t escape Ralph’s attention.

“Shit, it’s hot in here.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you spend all day cookin’. And shakin’ your ass.” The teasing tone in Gene’s words is accompanied by a smirk dripping with _“pain in the ass little brother”_ vibes.

“Fuck you, Eugene,” responds Ralph as he tosses a piece of bread crust at Gene’s head, “Ain’t gotta be jealous just ‘cause you can’t shake your ass like me.”

“Guess you should add ass shakin’ to your resume, right next to singin’ ‘n’ Cajun cookin’.”


End file.
